He was hands-down the most criminally sexy man she’d ever laid eyes on, and for a woman who worked with some serious man candy these days that was saying a lot. He studied her from the billiards area as he chalked up one of the cues. He was the only person over there, playing a solitary game while most people congregated at the bar. A slight smile teased his mouth as she managed to lift the mug and nod. So what if she hated beer? She’d gulp the whole thing in one go if that sex god wanted to watch. He nodded back, gestured to the pool table beside him, and—
Oh, yeah. She was tempted to saunter over there and see what happened. Beyond tempted. She’d never had a one-night stand in her life, but maybe this was as good a time as any.
“Well, I’ll be! He sure seems to have struck yer fancy.”
Oh, no. She scrunched her brows and shook her head. She had a bad feeling about this.
The ghost wooped. “Oh, but I think he has.” He glanced toward the billiards. “And I dare say he has taken quite a fancy to you, miss. Comes in here a lot that one does. Never been able to spook ‘em though.” Derby Hat Guy abruptly stood and started walking toward the other man, saying, “Let’s give ‘em a game. Have a bit of fun with the rascal.” He rubbed his hands together.
“Wait! Uh,” Alexandra jumped to her feet and realized a few seconds later she was practically on top of the pool table when Mr. Delicious said, amused, “Whoa now. I’m guessing you like a good game of pool?”
Among other things.
She bit her lip and tried to ignore the ghost bent over the other end of the table, reaching for two of the balls that had been scattered near a corner pocket. She’d made this poor, delicious man a target of the ghost’s tomfoolery. Oh dear. She needed to fix this.
“Pool?” Her eyes widened when Derby Hat Guy picked up the white ball behind Mr. Delicious and moved it clearway across the table. There was no orange glow to it, which meant the ball had actually moved. Had anyone else seen that? This ghost was an old and smart one. Not many could move objects like that. “Yeah. Yeah, I love pool. Game on.” Leaning over, she slapped the green felt and flicked her fingers a few times toward the wall, trying to convey the message to Derby Hat Guy to get lost.
Mr. Delicious held out a cue stick to her in offering, distracting her from the ghost past his shoulder. “Great. We’ll start a new game. I was getting tired of losing to myself.” He looked her up and down where she leaned against the table and seemed to like what he saw. His smoldering blue eyes burned with heat so intense, she felt her insides ignite. He wriggled the cue in his hand. “You know how to use this thing?” His smile was kicked up to full charge on the suggestive meter.
Oh, my, he was flirting, and that was a game best played by two. Accepting the cue from him, Alexandra arched a brow and slowly ran a finger along its length. “I can handle a stick pretty good.” She pursed her lips, blew at the chalk on the end, and slowly batted her lashes when she looked at him again. “Besides, what woman doesn’t love to bust some balls every now and then?”
He gave an appreciative chuckle. “Alright.” He began setting up a new game and she sighed, watching his taut backside move deliciously against his faded jeans as he bent over. Whew. Levis should pay him a royalty. Who looked that good in jeans, besides Calvin Klein models? No one, except this guy. Maybe he was a Calvin Klein model. He definitely had the face and body for it.
And maybe she should offer to buy him a drink or something—you know, to apologize for making him a target of the resident ghost.
“Can I get you a beer?”
“Nah. I’m good.” His back muscles stretched against his black t-shirt when he rested his elbows on the table, highlighting some serious muscle definition beneath.
“Something else? Whiskey?” She tilted her head at him. Me?
“No thanks.” His eyes twinkled with amusement as he straightened and moved closer. “Girls take advantage of me when I drink. I can see I’ll need to keep my wits around you.”
“Is that so?” She cast a meaningful glance over her shoulder at the beer he’d ordered for her. “Crap. You’ve obviously found me out. Whatever will I do now?” She sent him a pointed look that she hoped said I know your game. Trying to take advantage of me, eh?
He selected a stick from the cue rack and sauntered over to her, not looking the least bit remorseful.
“I was hoping if you drank enough, I’d start looking good enough for you to come talk to me. Since you didn’t even take a sip before rushing right over, I’m flattered.”
She snorted, but yeah, she was as embarrassed as heck about the way that must have looked. “Maybe I thought you were someone else.”
“Who?”
She said the first name that came to mind. “Robert Pattinson.” And then winced.
His eyebrows squeezed together. He looked almost offended. “Really?”
No, not at all, but what was she supposed to say—oh, there was a ghost coming to play with your balls? She shrugged.
“I won’t hold that against you.” He winked. “And I should probably warn you.” He leaned in close, the tantalizing scent of raw masculine energy exciting her nostrils and causing her inner siren to sit up and sing. “The guy I’ve been playing against tonight is pretty tough. He might not go easy on you.”
“You mean, the guy you were playing pool with earlier?” She glanced around, spotted only Derby Hat Guy leaning against the table, drumming his fingers impatiently, sending her a bored look. “Who is he, Casper the friendly pool player?”
He grinned. “He’s the guy who sent you the beer—the one who thought to himself, ‘I think the most beautiful woman in the world is in this room, and I’d like to talk to her.’”
Oh, mercy, that was both the best and the worst pickup line she’d ever heard. He had a sense of humor as well as being sexy. She liked that.
She tilted her head and feigned concern. “Have you seen a doctor?”
His eyes widened. “For what?”
“Multiple personality disorder. I think you have it.” She smiled to let him know she was only teasing. And she gripped the cue tighter to keep from doing something ridiculous like ripping his shirt off. “Here’s a hint, Casanova. Guys who talk about themselves in third person tend to come off as a little bit crazy.”
He leaned so close his hot breath teased her face as he tried to stifle a laugh. “Good point. And I’m a jackass. I haven’t even asked your name.”
“Alexandra.” She held out her hand. “And who will I be crushing in this game tonight?”
The warmth of his fingers against hers was stimulating. “Name’s—”
The sound of wood knocking against wood startled them both, and Alexandra sprang away. Derby Hat Guy had moved to the cue rack and was purposefully knocking the sticks against one another. He stopped when Mr. Delicious turned around to inspect the noise.
“I thought we were gonna have some fun with the rascal!” complained her newest dead friend. “Come on, already. Let’s play!”
Ghosts. They could be so annoying.
***
“You know, they claim this place is haunted.”
Dylan Collins leaned against his pool cue and watched as his enticing opponent lined up her shot perfectly—and abruptly banged the white ball against the left side when the words left his mouth.
She swore softly and sighed. “You don’t say.”
He shrugged and moved to take his first shot, regretful he no longer had a good view of her cleavage as she bent over the table. She’d already sunk a number of the balls. The